A Christmas Gift
by Siofra1
Summary: My cheesy Christmas fic... The story of a depressed elf and the little hobbit child who cheers him up. Very "meaning of Christmas"


**Author's Note:** I have a habit of writing fics that don't involve major characters from the books, don't I? Ah well. I just wanted to write a cheesy Christmas fic, so here ya go! Enjoy and *crosses fingers* please review! :-)

**New Author's Note:**  Yup, I've reloaded this for the 2003 Christmas season… and I changed the word "Christmas" to "Yule" throughout the story… It may look a little weird, but as one of my reviewers pointed out, they don't celebrate Christmas in Middle-Earth.  But I had Yule involve the same traditions as Christmas… heh.

The windows of the Prancing Pony were lit up with a bright glow that came from the common room.  It lit up the streets, where people would stop as they walked when they heard the cheery music coming from within, and young children would grab their parents' hands and beg to be allowed to go inside.  Every so often a burst of laughter would erupt from inside that even drew the hobbits from the warmth of their holes.

The Prancing Pony was holding its annual Yule Eve party, and it was the event of the year in Bree.  People and hobbits would gather from all over Bree-land to help celebrate Yule together.  They would sit at the tables and have laughing conversations with one another, unless they chose to join the throng of people dancing to the tunes of a fiddler in the middle of the room. 

Barliman Butterbur went out of his way to provide Bree with a satisfactory party.  Every December the 24th, he, Nob and Bob would spend the morning and afternoon decorating the inn and cooking food in preparation for the guests.  He always served ale and dinner free of charge, and during the party was always seen bustling about with a plate full of mugs, chortling into his mustache.  It was because of this that no one ever complained that the Pony remained closed on Yule itself.  There was a general agreement that the staff of the inn both needed and deserved a rest after the lively party they had given the previous night.

This year was no exception.  The common room was full to bursting with humans and hobbits alike, all merry with the Yule spirit.  Aside from Bree-folk, there was a group of men from the northern land, as well as a handful of Shire-folk who had heard tell of the festivities that took place on this night.  A large group of hobbits were partaking in a spirited dance on the floor, with a few men on the sides, laughing as they tried to imitate the movements of the little folk without stepping on them.  A group of children stood in the corner by the tree, gazing up in wonder at the lighted candles and colorful balls adorning it.  On the top of the tree sat a star fashioned of some material that gave the impression that a glow was emanating from it. 

In response to a chorus of "Give us a song!" a small hobbit climbed to the top of a table, nodding at the applause he received.  He frowned as he realized that, even with the extra height that the table gave him, he could not be seen over the heads of the crowd.  The guests laughed as Butterbur handed the hobbit a chair to place atop the table.  Once situated in his proper position, the hobbit burst into a song so lively that the fiddler himself had trouble keeping up.  The others in the room cheered and began to dance to the new tune.

So spirited were the festivities that at first no one noticed the cloaked figure enter the inn.  The person stood in a door a moment before removing his hood and moving slowly and gracefully into the room.  He had long, chestnut colored hair and pale blue eyes that reflected the light from the many candles in the room.  It was easy to see that this newcomer was an elf, something that was not a common sight at this time of the year.  The elves preferred their own quieter celebrations to the somewhat raucous ones of other races.  As he crossed the floor in silence, those he passed would stop their conversations to turn to look at him.  He walked in a fluid manner, as though he did not have bones so much as water flowing evenly throughout him.  When he sat down at an empty table close to the tree, a few small children turned to look at him with the same awe they gave to the tree itself, for most had seen few elves in their lifetimes.  He had a weary air of sadness about him, however, and the children soon tired of him and returned to their contemplation of the tree. 

Bob hurried over to the elf's table, but he was waved away before he had spoken more than three words. No, the elf did not want anything to eat or drink; he merely wished to have a place to sit before he had to move on again.  Only slightly put out, Bob dashed across the room to where other guests had just arrived.  The elf glanced around the room, but seemed to find nothing in the cheery atmosphere that pleased him.  He then lowered his head and began to trace the patterns of the wooden table with his fingertip, ignoring those around him.

Perhaps if he had not been so deep within himself, the elf would have noticed that not all of the children had turned away from him.  One tiny hobbit-lad watched him with large eyes, his head tilted to one side as though he were studying the newcomer.  With a quick glance over his shoulder at the other children, the child walked slowly over to the table with the elf, peering up at him curiously.  As he came within a few feet of the table, the elf's eyes slid over and met his own.

"Why do you come to my table, little one?"

The hobbit, startled that the elf had seen him coming without looking his way, did not answer immediately.  Then, intrigued, he began to smile. 

"Why do you sit alone, mister elf?"  He asked, showing a gap in his tiny teeth. "Why do you not dance with the others?  My mother and father are over there," he added importantly, pointing the merry pair of hobbits out to the elf.  "They would be happy to dance with you."

The elf pondered the tiny child with his pale eyes.  "Nay, child, I do not wish to dance.  I wish only to sit alone and watch."

The hobbit-lad frowned.  "But that is not fun at all! Do you not have friends you can sit with?" He paused before adding, "I have many friends."

The elf smiled down at him, taken by his innocence.  "I am afraid my friends are not with me tonight.  I am very much alone."  Though his eyes smiled, his voice was mirthless and held a weariness that frightened the child a bit.  He stared up at the elf with his large brown eyes, and a change came over them.  He gained a look that very nearly resembled understanding.  Clutching at the elf's cloak, he climbed up and sat in his lap.

"If you are alone, then I shall sit with you and keep you company," he announced.  He looked around the table, concerned.  "Why do you not have food?  Is something wrong?"

The elf, who had been extremely taken aback by the child's actions, paused before replying.  "No, little one.  I am merely not hungry." He paused. " If you wish, I could order you something to eat."

The hobbit considered this, but shook his head.  "I will eat much more later, and tomorrow," he informed his companion.  "I do not need anything right now."  He was quiet for a brief moment, then, "Why are your friends not here?  Are they ill?  I could bring them some soup," he said, almost hopefully. It was obvious that most of the soup would end up in the child's stomach rather than that of the gift's recipient.

_Mercy_, thought the elf. _Does this child ever stop asking questions_? Aloud, he said only, "No, my friends are not ill.  They do not live in these parts, and so would not be able to join us tonight even if they wished."

"That is very sad," the child said, nodding.  "But, if they do not live here, why do you not visit them on Yule Eve?  You are very big.  It must not take you very long to get places."  To one so small, anyone larger than his father seemed a giant and therefore capable of many things.

The elf's heart sank.  He had hoped the child would not ask this question.  He did not wish to confuse or burden the lad with information beyond his understanding.  However, the young hobbit looked up at him with such sincere hopefulness in his face that the elf could not lie to him, nor could he refuse to answer.

"Little one, I have wandered these lands for many years and have seen many people come and go.  My friends have left Middle-Earth; they are far away, across the sea."

The child's eyes widened.  "I have heard stories about the sea.  They say it is very big.  Your friends are very far away, then.  How do you visit them?"

"I do not," the elf replied after a moment's silence.  "I have not seen them for many years, more than you could count, I daresay.  My family is there as well."

"That is very sad," the tiny hobbit said, eyes wide.  "But then who do you spend Yuletide with?"

The elf became suddenly frustrated.  "Do you not see, child?" he cried.  "I remain alone; my family and friends have long been gone from these lands.  I chose to remain, and all who stayed with me were killed in battles years ago.  I have no one!"

The child was silent for a time, absorbing what the elf had said. He did not fully comprehend the meaning behind the words, but he knew that the elf was very sad.  Meekly, he said,  "But then how do you celebrate Yule?  I visit my family.  Where do you go?"

The elf smiled wryly.  "I sit at a table, in the corner of an inn, watching others make merry when I myself cannot."  Anticipating the hobbit's next question, he continued.  "I have lived long, child.  I have seen many terrible things, and I have become weary of this world.  I am now leaving all I have ever known so that I might cross over the sea and perhaps finally be at peace.  I have little to be happy about, no matter the time of year."

For this the child had no response, and merely sat on the lap of the outlandish elf, peering up at him silently.  The elf grew uncomfortable by the lad's reaction, and was about to suggest that the hobbit leave when a shout from the nearby doorway caught the child's attention.  Nob stood surrounded by children of all sizes, carrying a large bag over his shoulder.  Laughing, he flung the sack upon the floor and reached inside, pulling out a toy sword, which he gave to a young boy next to him.

"Presents!" the child gasped, and without a second glance leapt off of the elf's chair and flung himself into the crowd of children.  The elf watched him solemnly, unnerved by the sadness he felt at the departure of the little one.  He frowned, and lowered his head once more to examine the patterns in the table.  It was because of this that he did not see the little hobbit turn his way after receiving his gift, nor did he see the look of contemplation that appeared on the child's face.  He saw nothing, until at last the hobbit-lad appeared at his side once more, with his hands clasped behind his back.

He sighed.  "What do you want of me, little one?"

The child smiled shyly and brought his hands forward.  As he did so, the elf saw that his hands had not been clasped together, but had rather been holding the tiny toy dog that he had received from Nob.  He gazed down at the child with surprise in his eyes.

"This is for you," the hobbit said, and the gap in his teeth showed once more as he grinned.  "If you have no friends to be with tonight, then I shall be your friend."  With that, he placed the dog upon the elf's lap.

The elf stared at the toy.  He was amazed at the feelings that a small toy brought forth.  No, it was not the toy; it was the action of a child giving up his Yule present for another being whom he had just met, all in the hopes of comforting him.  He felt more moved by this small token of friendship than he had felt ever before in his long life.  He stared down at the hobbit with confusion in his eyes.  On an impulse, the elf got down on his knees so that he might look the child in the eyes.

"Thank you, friend," he said seriously, trying to impart the importance of this moment to the small hobbit.  Feeling the need to give something back, the elf reached up and unclasped the pin that decorated his cloak.  It was a simple thing, to the unobservant eye; just a smooth piece of wood attached to a pin.  But if one looks closer, he might see the minuscule carvings of leaves and vines covering the pin.  This he handed to the child.

"A gift for a gift," he said simply, placing his own hands over those of the lad. "Thank you very much."  Without thinking, he swept the child into an embrace, which the hobbit-lad returned.   As they drew apart, the child looked at the elf.

"Will you not stay with me for dinner?"

The elf smiled sadly.  "Nay, my friend.  I meant only to stop in this inn briefly; I still have a long way to travel before I might rest."

He was startled to see tears spring into the child's eyes.  "Will you ever come back and visit?" the hobbit asked, though he knew the answer.  He knew the elf's destination.

"Likely not," the elf said slowly.  "But you have that pin to remember me, if you truly wish to remember a sad old elf like myself."

The child nodded.  "I do, very much.  And you have my dog." At this he smiled.  "Will you think of me while you are on the ocean? I would like that."

The elf smiled in return, and he was struck by how long it had been since he had last done so.  "I shall think of you every day, my friend."  This made the child grin broadly, and the elf rose to his feet, placing his hand upon the lad's head and tousling his curls fondly.  "Go play with your friends, little one."  He watched as the child ran off to speak with the children by the tree.  After a moment, he turned and, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, walked outside.

A few minutes later, a cloaked rider paused on the path, turning briefly towards the laughter coming from the lighted inn.  He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he placed his hand into his pocket.  The tiny dog in his pockets made him smile, thinking of the tiny child who had reminded him what it meant to have a friend.  Gently, the elf kicked his horse, and horse and rider rode off into the night.


End file.
